


Wanted: Dead or Alive (Hopefully Alive)

by neuroticscales



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Gen, Gore, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neuroticscales/pseuds/neuroticscales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Bro, who work together as morticians, get a bit of a shock when the man who was supposed to be a regular cleaning job comes back to life. </p>
<p>Soon, the undead are everywhere, filling the streets and shops alike. </p>
<p>Finding shelter and food is becoming increasingly difficult as time goes on, and more and more zombies roam the town. Can both of them stay alive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanted: Dead or Alive (Hopefully Alive)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this is going to be a bumpy ride, everyone. Please mind the tags and warnings, they are there for a reason!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Feel free to leave feedback/comments/concerns, I always want to hear from you guys.

"You done with the personal report yet?" John nodded in reply.

"Long-sleeve dress shirt, blue; tie, black; slacks, grey; and the shitty suit jacket. Black," he rattled off. Bro gestured to the man's wrist.

"What about the even shittier watch?"

"Ah," John said, scribbling it on his clipboard, "also noted the lack of socks and shoes." 

"'Kay," Bro said, "strip him." The removal was lengthy but clinical, the clothes still stiff from his rather untimely demise. Bro let out a long stream of air as they stared down at the now naked body.

"This has got to be my favourite part," Bro said in monotone, being facetious. Well, hopefully. John could never tell. "Search the orifices!" John searched the mouth, eyes, ears, and nostrils, finding nothing, but when he got below the belt, he groaned.

"Oh god. This one's got a catheter," John said, gesturing and handing Bro the forceps. 

"Ohhh, no. It's your turn, jeeves," Bro replied, pushing the tool away.

"Nuh uh, it's your turn." Bro bristled and thrust a pointed finger in John's face.

"Do you not remember the great vibrator debacle of last October?," he shouted. "It is YOUR goddamn turn." 

"Okay!" John said, accepting defeat. His lip curled in disgust.

"That thing was shoved so far up his ass, my hand almost-"

"Enough!," John interrupted, covering his ears. "I've got it." Bro clapped a hand on John's shoulder and grinned.

"Great." John winced as he removed the catheter; liquid tricked slowly out as it was pulled. Bro instantly guffawed.

"Aw, man," he said, peering at the man's genitals, "sick." The word was uttered with reverence. 

"Is that piss, or...," John waved his hand around, cutting himself off, "you know what, I don't wanna know."

"Well, I certainly hope it's piss. Could be semen, although the colour-," at this Bro dipped a gloved hand into the liquid and rubbed his fingers together, "and viscosity leads me to believe it's not. Perhaps another form of general discharge." John nodded curtly, writing all of this down on his clipboard.

"Alright. That all?" John nodded again.

"Looks like it."

"Alright," Bro replied, "let's clean 'em up." John grabbed the disinfectant and sprayed down the body, beginning to wipe the man down. 

"Did he just...," Bro trailed off, peering at the man's face, "nevermind." John continued his given task, but eyed Bro surreptitiously. 

"What?" Bro shook his head.

"I said nevermind!"

John turned back to the body, eyes occasionally flicking to the man's face. Bro muttered under his breath, "must be goin' crazy."

"Bro, Bro," John said frantically, grabbing him by the shirt sleeve, "I swear he just moved. His eye fucking twitched!"

"That's what I thought happened!," Bro screeched. John stopped his actions altogether and moved next to Bro. They met each other's eyes, John's wide and worried, Bro's harsh and concerned. Then they heard the noise- a gargling, wet sound not unlike someone throwing up. Bro and John looked up in terror and found that the man had sat up and thrown up all over himself. His eyes were wide open, staring coldly at them. Bro clutched John's arm and they both let out shouts of terror.

"What the fuck is that?" John shrieked, grabbing for Bro's shirt. 

"I don't fucking know!," he shouted, terrified. He grabbed two of the long, sharp tools used for organ removal and handed one to John. He stared at it, slack-jawed, before wrenching open the door. Immediately he screamed; another corpse had awoken and was maneuvering his way down the hall towards them. Bro pushed ahead of John, brandishing his weapon. John squealed as Bro drove the sharp end through the man's chest. Bro turned to John and shrugged.

"What?" His eyes widened and he pointed towards John. "Dude, look out!" John turned and ducked just in time as the zombie swung his arm at his head. John let loose another scream as he brought his weapon down hard onto its head, causing a disgusting squelching noise as it sunk in.

"C'mon!" Bro yelled, nearly tripping over the bodies. John ran after him, breathing hard from the stress.

"Fucking zombies?!," he shouted.

"I guess so!," Bro called back, still sprinting to the exit. They reached it fairly painlessly, but opened it to reveal yet another zombie.

"I can't hit her, she's a little girl!," John reasoned. Bro, however, showed less mercy. He held his leg up and kicked her in the head, his heavy boot smashing into her skull clean through to the other side. Blood shot everywhere, spraying them both in the face.

"Guh!," John exclaimed, swiftly wiping the brown liquid from his lenses.

"At least you've got glasses!," Bro replied, rubbing his eyes furiously. "C'mon man, go faster!," he yelled, grabbing John's hand and running fast away from the morgue. 

John had no time to react to this, there was zombie killing to be done! Although he allowed himself a moment to think about it- did Bro do it because their lives were in danger, or because he liked him? John blushed fiercely while thinking about it like that; god, he sounded like a middle schooler. He knew it was probably the first, but wished it were the latter. 

"Whatever," John thought, "not like we can do anything anyway. We basically got transported into a fucking slasher video game."

"So, where're we going?" he asked, pushing away any thoughts about his romantic interest.

"Well," Bro began, "we need weapons, and we're in Houston. Where do you think?" John nodded knowingly.

"Ah. Carter's?" 

"Yep. Although I've got all the guns we need," Bro said, flexing a rather impressive bicep. John elbowed him in the side.

"Shut up, dude." 

\-----

They walked across town for what seemed like hours, even though the gun shop was fairly close to the morgue. But they soon got an awful surprise when they saw about thirty zombies milling around the rather small store. Bro gave John a concerned glance, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

"How fast can you run?," he asked. John grinned and took off without Bro, sprinting as fast as he could. 

"Pretty fucking fast," Bro said under his breath. He caught up to John quickly, shoving a few zombies out of the way as he ran. 

"Thank god they're slow," John said, panting. 

"But we can't be," Bro replied, and ripped open the door to the gun shop, knocking a lanky zombie to the ground that had been loping towards them. They ran into the shop and Bro sprang into action; he pulled a wooden display case in front of the door and began sifting through the contents. He found a huge shotgun and immediately loaded it, preparing for the worst. 

"Look at me!," John called, "pow pow!" He was holding two pistols, one in each hand, and pretending to shoot them at Bro.

"Jeez kid, get serious here!," Bro yelled, "At least put the fucking safety on." John's face fell, setting the pistols back down gingerly into the case.

"I don't even know what that is," he grumbled. Bro sighed and picked up one of the guns. 

"God, you were sheltered. This," he said, pointing at a small switch on the pistol, "is the safety. If it's on, the gun won't shoot." 

"Oh," John said, grabbing it and flipping the safety off and back on again, "cool!"

"Yeah! There's zombies everywhere, and that gun is super fucking cool, indeed," Bro snapped. His voice felt heavy, suffocating, inside the small room.

"Why are you being such a dick?" John questioned, backing up against the wall. 

"Because you're acting like a fucking child! We could die at any moment and you're fucking around with your little double pistols?," he shouted. John winced. 

"There's no harm in trying to lighten the mood."

"The mood is dark as fuck and it's going to stay that way," Bro retorted, "just, make yourself useful or something. Load some guns." He turned back to his shotgun, when he heard a crash of glass breaking. He whipped his head around to see John being pawed at and grabbed by several zombies. Bro filled with panic as John let out a strangled cry, 

"Bro!"


End file.
